"Why do we live so far from the campus?"
Dill looked over his shoulder at the complaining Sam who was half-walking, half-limping along Low Street. He shrugged. "The rent was cheap and we got free wifi. Also, the Student's Union gave us free bus passes."
"Which we swapped for dope the second week we were here."
"We didn't need them. We're computer techs we log in remotely most of the time."
"'Most' being the operative word here. Can we stop for a bit? I think I got a stone in my shoe."
"Sure." Dilbert nodded toward a cafe with tables strewn across to pavement to waylay passers-by. "I could do with a sit-down myself."
They reached the aluminium tables an dragged the chairs screaming against the pavement. It was as good as a bell to summon a waitress. Sam began unlacing his trainer.
"Can I help you?" The waitress was young and pretty, with hair the colour of bubblegum and nails to match. She stood with her weight on one leg, her hip thrust into the air as she poised pencil over pad.
"Er...just a glass of tapwater please." Dill pulled a handful of small change from his trouser pocket and extracted the butt-end of a spliff before dumping it on the table. "No ice, no napkin and no service charge." He tried a smile.
"Last of the big spenders." She jotted it down and looked at Sam "What about your mate?"
"Huh?" Sam looked at her and attempted a smile. "Cinnamon frappuccino please." He held up his leg. "Have I got something stuck in my foot?"
The waitress turned away. "I think I'm going to be sick."
Dill pursed his lips. "Yes mate. There's a P-two-two-six chip pressed into the skin. Probably been there a while to judge from the hole." He reached across and plucked it out, tossing it into the gutter. "You'll be fine."